This They Call Family
by sinemoras09
Summary: With everything that happened, the universe was obviously making it up to him. Isshin and his children. Gen. Isshin x Masaki. Ichigo, Karin, and Yuzu. Spoilers for chapter 188.


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_Who shall say I am not  
the happy genius of my household?  
-William Carlos Williams_

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From the day Ichigo was born, Isshin personally saw that his son would be strong, and trained him as such.

Roundhouse kicks to the face and shouting "Prepare yourself!" would become a daily ritual, much to the chagrin of his wife. "Isshin, please. He's only five."

"Tch, woman! He's five and yet his reflexes are still slow!"

(This after Isshin bopped little Ichigo on the head with a rubber ducky during bathtime.)

xXx

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The first time Isshin held his son, he could feel the flame-flicker of the infant's spirit pressure pulsing beneath his hands. It was amazing. That his gigai would help give rise to another living being - he couldn't believe it.

Isshin grinned stupidly for days.

xXx

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Falling in love wasn't part of the plan. Neither was having his children.

With everything that happened, the universe was obviously making it up to him.

xXx

.

Everyone thought it was completely by accident that Isshin named his children after fruit. Masaki of course found it adorable. Her eyes would make darling little half-moons when she murmured their names, stroking her belly while Ichigo toddled at their feet. "Yuzu. Karin. My two sweets. Say hello to your papa." And Isshin would blow raspberries against Masaki's belly and tickle her sides.

The truth was: he chose those names on purpose. It was silly and stupid and it made Masaki smile.

xXx

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Masaki looked _so beautiful_ when she laughed. Isshin couldn't help himself. The more idiotic he acted, the more Masaki would shake and giggle and turn red with laughter. It almost looked post-coital, in fact.

He liked to make his children laugh, too. They were so _adorable_ when they laughed, cute little smiles and snuggling up against his chest. It made Isshin happy when they laughed. After their mother died, they didn't laugh nearly as much, anymore.

xXx

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The family all thought the poster in the kitchen was kind of morbid. "It's so she can smile down on us, watching us as we eat," Isshin intoned, gravely. Ichigo rolled his eyes and Karin looked positively mortified. Yuzu just nodded. She took after her mother that way.

Isshin worked on that stupid thing with a religious fervor, stringing up red Christmas lights around it and lighting candles by the side. Every day (much to the embarrassment of his children) Isshin made sure to make an elaborate display of praying, crying, and weeping to it on a daily basis.

If there was a chance Masaki could come back, haunting them from afar, Isshin wanted to make sure she knew she was missed. Even hollows could feel lonely, after all.

xXx

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It was no secret that his daughters were embarrassed by him.

Isshin had been in the middle of giving his girls the biggest, most fatherly bear hug possible when Karin wheezed, struggling out of his grip. "Dad! Stop it! You're crushing us!"

"My little girls!" Isshin said. He hugged them again. "Daddy's so proud of you!"

"Dad!"

"You're growing up _so fast_!" Isshin said, and he squashed them both into his chest. "And to think--" He sniffled, _sotto voce_, "Pretty soon, you'll be leaving your old man alone. All alone to mourn your poor, beautiful mother!"

"Dad, _stop it_," Karin said. She wriggled out of Isshin's grip, pulling Yuzu along, too.

Ichigo was little better. He just looked so unhappy. It bothered Isshin more than he let on. "Ichigo. What's with that sour look? You look constipated," Isshin observed. (He _was_ a doctor, after all).

"Baka. I always look like this," Ichigo said.

The thing was - and Isshin loathed to admit it - he was afraid Karin was growing equally as unhappy, too.

Yuzu wasn't unhappy, though. Then again, Yuzu wasn't haunted by the same ghosts as her siblings. Or as Isshin, for that matter.

xXx

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Isshin never liked his shinigami robes. They were too drab, too stately, they were entirely too imposing for his taste.

The first thing Isshin did when he got a hold of his gigai was to buy the loudest, most colorful shirts in the store.

(Later, his doctor friends would make fun of him for looking unprofessional with his bright yellow Hawaiian prints underneath his white coat. Isshin didn't care, none of them had any personality, anyway.)

xXx

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Sometimes, when the light was slanting a certain way, Isshin thought about home.

Home for Isshin was by the western gate of Soul Society. Sometimes it smelled like plums and cherry blossoms, and on just the right day, the city park smelled the same way, too.

But Isshin didn't really miss Soul Society. He didn't miss the blood and the battles and the Hollows gnawing at his mind.

xXx

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After Ichigo became a Soul Reaper, Isshin made it a habit to stay up and wait for him. If the girls were sleeping over at their friend's place, he would follow Ichigo himself, watching in the shadows and making sure his son was okay.

"You look like crap," Ichigo said one day, after his father had stayed up all night waiting for his son to come home.

"Hey, is that any way to greet your father? I'm hurt!" Isshin said.

"Dad--"

"PREPARE YOURSELF!"

Ichigo expertly ducked the roundhouse kick to the face and replied by smashing his fist against Isshin's mouth.

Isshin didn't have to worry. He couldn't help it, though.

xXx

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There was one night Ichigo was gone an extra-long time. The girls were home asleep, and Isshin couldn't very well leave them alone. He stayed up and waited instead, fidgeting and pacing and peering out at the occasional headlight arcing through the curtains.

Isshin pretended not to notice when he saw his son stagger home early that morning, bloody and battered and his shinigami robes hanging by his sides. Isshin frowned, and watched quietly as Ichigo's spirit dragged itself back to his room.

xXx

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The thing Isshin hated more than being a Soul Reaper was the fact that his son was a Soul Reaper, too.

If he were in any position of authority, he would personally have taken that Rukia girl and throttled her himself. What foolishness! Giving her powers to a human! (A human who was a son of a former captain, but the fact remains.)

xXx

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The thing that bothered Isshin the most, though, was that he couldn't protect his family. The hollows came and went and Isshin was powerless to stop them.

Isshin was shocked - quite shocked! - at the size of Ichigo's sword.

xXx

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There were two things Isshin was afraid of. Three things, actually, but the second one came true.

The first: that his children would be in danger, and Isshin would not be there to help.

The second: that his wife would be in danger, and Isshin would not be there to help.

The third was a secret, because to admit it might make it come true.

xXx

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The unit Isshin commanded was a tightly knit one: a coterie of specialized Soul Slayers, reapers of the highest caliber. They'd be sent to defend cities, flying out to the outskirts and standing steadfast against the hollows pouring out above them.

They were as close to family as Isshin ever had, outside of Masaki and his children. As close to family as permitted in Soul Society, at least.

xXx

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There was one particularly grueling battle, a skyscraper sized hollow slashing through the sky. It was a suicide mission, one beyond the scale and scope of any ordinary unit. "Even the 11th squad is no match," the head captain said. He stared at Isshin, levelly. "Are you prepared to sacrifice, my son?"

"If it is for the good of our city, of course," Isshin said. Stupid and foolhardy, looking back.

xXx

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It rained black oil that night. Fires raged in the distance, the orange light bouncing off low-lying clouds. It was too dangerous for the fourth division to come, and the eleventh was engaged elsewhere. Isshin wiped his face, dirt and mud smearing across his cheek. One of his lieutenants was lying on the ground. "Isshin..._taichou_," he said.

Isshin crouched low and watched his lieutenant struggling to breathe. His mouth moved silently, blood pooling around his throat. "Isshin..._taichou_," he said again. "_Please..._."

The blow that came was quick, Isshin made sure of that. And so his lieutenant died without pain.

xXx

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If Isshin was grateful for one thing, it was that Masaki knew exactly how to calm him.

Waking in the middle of the night, heart pounding and chest tight, he would feel Masaki press against him and murmur into his ear. "Another nightmare?"

"Yeah."

Isshin liked sleeping next to Masaki. She always felt so warm.

xXx

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There were three things Kurosaki Isshin was afraid of. And now two of them have come true.

When Isshin saw Ichigo in his shinigami robes for the first time, he vomited violently outside. Thankfully it was dark out, and Ichigo was too busy chasing hollows to notice.

xXx

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"Dad?" Ichigo said. He stared, worried. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Do you know what I'm afraid of?" Isshin kept his eyes trained on the horizon, at the birds and the gullies overhead. "I am afraid you'll lose your soul."

"Wha--dad, that's ridiculous," Ichigo said.

Isshin stared at him, levelly. So much, so much to tell. So much his son knew, and yet didn't understand. How could he tell him? What could he say?

xXx

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It was raining when Masaki died; Isshin remembers how her hair was wet and slick against her face.

Masaki was mortal, and Isshin swore to himself that when the time came, he would personally guide Masaki's spirit home - the assumption being he would have regained his powers by then. He would leave his gigai behind and join her there, together forever so she would not be afraid.

That didn't happen, of course.

xXx

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Isshin had regrets. He regretted not being there to guide Masaki back to Soul Society. He regretted not being there when the hollow struck and his son was left traumatized and shaking.

He regretted not being able to protect his family, fragile as little birds.

xXx

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It was late, now. Karin and Yuzu had stayed up watching horror movies and (somehow) managed to fall asleep on the couch.

Isshin stopped. Karin and Yuzu were curled up together, faces plastered against the couch cushions, and breathing softly. Quietly Isshin switched off the television and covered them with a blanket. Then he stepped out of the livingroom and switched off the light.

In the kitchen, Ichigo was drinking milk straight from the carton. Isshin stepped up next to him and clapped him on the arm.

"Son," Isshin said. "I think it's time I teach you how to wield a sword."

Ichigo stared at him like it was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

Well. Technically Ichigo had been swinging around that zampakuto for a while now, he was proficient enough. Not to mention he had no idea who his father was, he probably thought it'd be more stupid sparring in store. But his son was sloppy and headstrong, a perfect combination for getting oneself killed. It worried Isshin to no end. He swore to himself he would train his son to be better, if even obliquely.

"Well?" Isshin said. Ichigo stared.

"Do...do you even _know_ how to use a sword?" Ichigo said.

"Ha!"

Ichigo frowned, then set down the carton of milk. "Fine," Ichigo said. "But don't be surprised if it turns out I'm better than you."

Isshin tried hard not to smile. He was always so proud of his son.

* * *

**A/N: Inspired by the poem "Danse Russe" by William Carlos Williams.  
**


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